


Makes A House A Home

by TourmalineQueen



Category: Frasier (TV)
Genre: Eddie is smarter than everyone else, Gen, comment-fic, fibit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 12:33:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1428688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TourmalineQueen/pseuds/TourmalineQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Evil_Little_Dog, who prompted: <i>Frasier, Eddie + any, "A little dog hair makes a house a home."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Makes A House A Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Evil_Little_Dog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Little_Dog/gifts).



Eddie jumped off the couch the moment he heard the door to The One Who Thinks He's The Boss's room open, hopping onto The Boss's armchair and curled up, making sure to present the picture of sleepy innocence.

Frasier walked through the apartment to open the door, stooping to grab his morning newspaper. He turned,, letting the door swing shut behind him. He glanced over the front page and saw an article he wanted to read. He sat on his couch, glancing across to the curled-up Jack Russell on Martin's armchair. He huffed through his nose. The little beast seemed to have finally understood that the couch was not for - wait...

"DAAAAAAAAD!" Frasier bellowed. "That damned miniature Cerberus of yours has been sitting on the sofa again!"

Martin stamped out to the living room. "Funny, I thought my armchair wasn't the same thing as your precious sofa," he noted. "And that's where Eddie is sleeping right now."

Frasier growled deeply in his chest. "The conniving little beast probably jumped onto your lounger the second it heard me coming. And I have evidence that he's been on my sofa."

"Oooh, evidence, eh? Is that gonna go before a grand jury?" Marting asked sarcastically.

Frasier stood up and pointed dramatically. "Dog hair! On the forbidden sofa. Suede never lies, Dad. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Two things. One: a little dog hair makes a house a home. And Two: weren't you wearing a white, handmade, mohair sweater yesterday while you were sitting on that side of the sofa?"

Frasier's eyes widened. 

"Got an answer to that? No? Then leave poor little Eddie out of your rants, huh? C'mon, Eddie, let's get some breakfast."

Frasier stayed where he was, glaring at the fine, white hairs on his suede sofa.


End file.
